Disturbing the Peace, page 19
Halstead was still having trouble putting it all together. “I expected Zimmerman and Brunet to take the money and head for California or up to Canada. I didn’t think they’d use the money to buy a town. It doesn’t make any sense. Not for men like them.”
“I didn’t say that.” Jack held up a long hand to caution him. “Just that I’m pretty sure they’re part of it somehow. It stands to reason that they’re using the money to repair the town, but until I know more about where the money came from, I couldn’t swear to it in court. Hell, I don’t think I could get a warrant to bring Hubbard in, much less make him give us a look at his books.”
Abby began to release her grip on Halstead and flattened down the part of his shirt where she had buried her head. “Look at me. This morning I was Joan of Arc and ready to take on the world. Now I’m quivering like a field mouse.”
Halstead slowly eased her away from him and looked at her. “You got shook up is all. No shame in that.”
“Guess I had something to do with that,” McBride admitted. “I lost my temper when I roughed up Hubbard a little. The outlaws saw it and razzed her some. I shouldn’t have done that with you there, Miss Abby, and I’m sorry.”
“Nonsense,” she said as she went back to her seat. “He was practically begging for a beating. I think you showed remarkable restraint.”
But Halstead was concerned about something else. “Those two men you ran into as you left. You recognize either of them?”
“The big fella we ran into as we left matched a lot of descriptions,” McBride said, “but I’d bet a month’s wages that he was Ed Zimmerman. The little guy with him looked familiar, but he had that kind of face.”
Sandborne looked up at Halstead. “Stands to reason that Zimmerman would be close to where his men were. And them living in town makes sense after what we found up in the hills today.”
It was McBride’s turn to hear what they had found in the shack, and Sandborne conveyed it while Halstead sat beside Abby, holding her hand.
When Sandborne was done, McBride slowly shook his head. “Sounds like Zimmerman’s got you pegged pretty good, Jeremiah. If that stick was as unstable as you said, you’d have traded in your guns for a pair of wings and a harp.”
Sandborne had left out the part about the letter, and with Abby around, he was glad he had. He could always tell McBride about it later if he had to.
“I’d probably wind up somewhere a bit further south,” Halstead said.
“Jeremiah!” Abby snapped at him. “Don’t you dare say such a thing.”
He reluctantly let her hand go and sat back in his chair. “Jack’s right. Zimmerman’s got me pegged better than I thought. And I wrote him off as just another outlaw looking to rob and steal and get rich. I didn’t see this coming. None of it. I never thought he was trying to build something, much less a town.” He hated being wrong, but this was more than that. He had been made to look like a fool by a man who was obviously much more than a common outlaw.
He asked McBride, “What do you think we should do next?”
The town marshal sipped his coffee as he crossed his long legs on his desk. “I don’t know and that’s the part that bothers me. Technically, Hard Scrabble is still part of my jurisdiction, but as we’ve already realized, I don’t have enough men to ride up there and take a proper look around. Even with the both of you, it wouldn’t be enough. I might be able to form a posse of about twenty or so to ride out there with us, but this bunch would probably kill most of them if not all of us. Zimmerman’s pulled together one nasty group of men around him. There’s no doubt about that. And I’d bet they’re fixing that town proper for a fight.”
Halstead caught that. “Meaning?”
“Meaning I’ve worked that town for a few years,” McBride explained. “I know it like the back of my hand. I didn’t see them changing the layout of it any, but they were repairing what was already there. That place was difficult to hit before. Now that they’re making improvements, it’ll be even harder.”
Halstead almost flinched when Abby took his hand. “Listen to him, Jeremiah. Everything he says is true. I know you’ve got your orders. I know you were sent here to bring him in, but it’s hopeless.”
Halstead was not used to anyone caring so much about his well-being. All he could think to do was pat her hand and say, “Don’t worry. We’ll think of something.”
“Don’t think of anything but yourself,” she said. “You haven’t seen his eyes. Not up close like I have. He’s a monster. There’s not a drop of human feeling in him at all anymore, if there ever was any in the first place.”
Halstead knew that was the fear talking. Yes, she had been around some rough characters in her time. Men like Tom Ringham. But the gambler was no match for men like Zimmerman and Brunet, men who killed for a living. Men who killed because it was as much a part of them as breathing.
Halstead asked McBride, “Telegraph wires still down?”
The town marshal nodded. “I check every morning and the answer’s always the same. No one will get around to fixing it until the thaw in the spring. But the wire in Wellspring is still working. I know you’re touchy about taking the stage down there, with the price on your head and all, but you can make it there in less than half a day of hard riding if you stick to the trail.”
He looked out the window at Halstead’s and Sandborne’s horses. “That mustang of yours should make it there and back without a problem. And if you’re looking to Helena for orders, I don’t see you as having any other choice but to do it.”
McBride pushed his mug onto his desk and did not seem to care that some of it spilled over. “Damn it, I hate this. I hate not being able to grab hold of a man just because he’s got me outgunned. Makes me feel useless.”
Unfortunately, Halstead understood how he felt. He forced a smile for Abby’s benefit, which made her brighten some.
Sandborne cleared his throat as he got to his feet. “Jeremiah, I’ve got an idea, but I’d like to talk it over with you outside.”
“All ideas are welcome,” McBride said, “even dumb ones.”
But Sandborne left the jail and it was clear he expected Halstead to follow. Unaccustomed to such a definitive act from his friend, he thought it best to join him.
He squeezed Abby’s hand. “Let me go hear what he has to say. I’ll be right back.”
Halstead joined Sandborne out on the boardwalk and closed the door behind him. “What’s so important that you can’t say it in there. Jack’s liable to think we don’t trust him just when we need him most.”
“It’s not about what Jack needs,” Sandborne told him. “It’s about what you need. And what you need is to get Abby out of here.”
Halstead had been wondering when the younger man might get around to bringing her up. “She’s not doing any harm here, Joshua. She’s got a job. A position. She can’t just up and leave like that.”
“That’s exactly what she has to do. For her own good and for yours. I see how you’re worried about her. How angry you are that she got scared today. I don’t blame you. I like Abby, too, and I’d knock any man on his ass for treating her poorly. But she’s a distraction that you don’t need. That bunch over in Hard Scrabble or Valhalla or whatever they’re taking to calling it now is a lot worse than we thought. We’re liable to have to go up against them sooner or later and we can’t do that if half of you is wondering how Abby is.”
Halstead began to feel warmth spread through him. Warmth that usually began when his temper started to build. “Joshua, you’re twenty. You don’t know how the world works.”
“Maybe not,” he admitted, “but I know how gunplay works. Maybe not as good as you or Jack or Aaron or Billy, but I know enough to understand that you can’t fight a man and your mind at the same time. I remember that letter Zimmerman wrote. He’s not looking to just shoot you, Jeremiah. He’s looking to burn you down from the inside. And after seeing her in the bank today, how long do you think it’ll take for him to find out she means something to you? What’ll he do then? Shoot her? Take her? What will you do then? What will happen to Jack and me when Zimmerman or Brunet uses her against you.”
The old warmth was spreading now, and he was beginning to hear the roar of his own blood in his ears.
But Sandborne did not let up. “You can haul off and beat the hell out of me if you want, but while I’m picking up my teeth, you’ll know I’m right even if you’re too stubborn to admit it.”
Halstead shut his eyes and turned away from Sandborne before his temper got the better of him. He wrapped his hands around the porch post until his knuckles cracked. Col began to fuss against the rein the way she always did when Halstead got riled. Sandborne’s horse, too.
He had not planned for any of this to happen. He had not expected Zimmerman to put a price on his head. He had not expected to meet Abby, much less have feelings for her.
He had planned on finding Brunet or Zimmerman half dead in a saloon some place, not pulling off a robbery to buy a dying town at the end of nowhere.
He had not expected his young friend to save his life twice, much less be the only man who could talk sense to him.
A cold gust of wind blew along Main Street and tamped down his anger. It would be dark soon, and there was much to prepare.
“Bring the horses to the livery,” he told Sandborne, “but make sure you drop off our rifles at the hotel first. We’ll be riding to that telegraph office in Wellspring come sunup, and I don’t want to come back here to get our guns. Tell the liveryman to feed them well. They’re going to have a tough day tomorrow.”
Sandborne began to unwrap the reins of the horses from the rail. “Should I get a horse for Abby?”
Halstead shook his head. “She’ll be taking the stage. Probably safer that way.”
“Yes, boss.”
Halstead watched the younger man climb into the saddle and sit a little taller than normal. He had managed to make Halstead listen to reason, and that was something to celebrate.
Halstead called after him. “Don’t go getting haughty on me, now. You’re still just a hayseed.”
Sandborne touched the brim of his hat as he rode toward the hotel and the livery beyond. He decided Mackey had been wrong. Sandborne would not make a good lawman someday. He already was.
Halstead glanced back into the jail and saw Abby sipping from her coffee mug, talking to Jack McBride. She looked like she was even smiling.
He did not know how she would take the news about having to leave town. He did not know how he would take it, either.
* * *
Halstead kept eyeing the street as he escorted Abby back to the hotel, her arm comfortably through his.
But Halstead was anything but comfortable. The content of Zimmerman’s note aside, he still had a price on his head and a town full of desperate men who might want to take their chance at the ten-thousand-dollar bounty. Two men had died trying to collect it, but memories ran short once the liquor and beer started flowing.
He had asked Jack to walk her back to the hotel, but Abby would not hear of it. She had wanted Jeremiah to take her and left no room for discussion on the subject.
They walked slower than the rest of the people on the boardwalk. Mostly because he wanted to see if anyone was following them or waiting for them in a doorway. He also knew this would probably be the last stroll they took together in town, maybe even forever, and he did not want to rush it.
They were only a short distance from the jail when she said, “I’m going to take the stagecoach to Wellspring tomorrow.”
A spike of anger went through him. “Did Sandborne tell you that?”
“No,” she assured him. “And I couldn’t hear what you were talking about outside, but I figured it was about me. I don’t know if my leaving was your idea or his and it doesn’t matter. It’s my decision and that’s final.”
Halstead had been caught off-guard again for the third time that day. He wondered if he was beginning to lose whatever edge he had. “It’s not something I’m happy about, Abby, but it’s the right thing to do.”
“No, it isn’t,” she said. “It’s a cowardly, womanly thing to do. I should be willing to stay here and stick this out with you until the end, but I can’t. Those men back there put a fright into me I’ve never known before. I thought I could stand up to any man after being with Tom for so long, but those men back there are a different breed.”
Halstead was glad she had come to that decision on her own. “Tom’s nothing compared to that bunch. A man like Zimmerman would make Tom his valet and he’d be grateful for the privilege. Not many have been able to stand up to Zimmerman and Brunet. There’s no shame in being sensible.”
“You have,” she reminded him. “Stood up to him, I mean. You beat Zimmerman in Silver Cloud. Jack told me all about it. Said you took on twenty gunmen all by yourself and walked out without a scratch. Said you’d chased Zimmerman from town like a scalded dog.”
Halstead could not stop himself from smiling. Months after the incident, and the number of gunmen was already up to twenty. It would probably hit thirty by Christmastime.
But he did not like to dwell on the past, and he did not see any reason why he should correct her. “It wasn’t that many and I didn’t do it alone. I didn’t walk out without a scratch, either. Stopped a bullet with my shoulder.”
“Interesting,” she said. “Did it leave a scar?”
“Not a very big one. The town doctor was better with a needle and thread than most tailors.”
“Guess it’s still enough to tell all the ladies in your life,” she said. “You probably tell them all about how you looked death in the eye and cut it down with your Peacemakers blazing.”
He felt himself begin to blush again. “They’re Colt Thunderers, not Peacemakers. And there are no women to tell any war stories to, either.”
She made an odd sound as they continued walking. He kept hoping she would explain it, but when she did not, his curiosity got the better of him. “What was that sound for?”
“Just thinking is all,” she said. “Trying to decide if I believe that part about you having no women to tell war stories to.”
“Well, I don’t,” he said.
She looked at him in a way that made him feel foolish.
“It’s true,” he persisted. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m not a monk, but a man in my line of work doesn’t exactly have the time or inclination to be with a woman.”
Her smile made him feel like a complete idiot.
“A real woman I mean.”
“Oh? You mean there are fake women running around? Oh, you’re so much more worldly than me, Jeremiah Halstead.”
He felt his face turn scarlet. “Women of substance, I mean.”
“Ah, so a woman like your friend’s wife, for instance. That woman you mentioned on the train.”
“Katherine,” he reminded her. “And yes, women like that.”
“Women like me?”
He had never liked it when people laughed at him, but for some reason, he didn’t mind Abby’s teasing one bit. “You could say that.”
She hugged his arm tightly and they began to pick up the pace a bit. “Good, because I’d hate to go back to Helena and find myself duking it out with a horde of harlots for your hand.”
Halstead stopped walking and so did she.
He found himself unable to speak, especially now that she was smiling up at him. The lamplight of the street made her blue eyes shine. “Yes, Jeremiah. I’m heading back to Helena where I intend to wait for you until you return.” She wrapped her other arm around him. “And you will return to me, Jeremiah Halstead. I’ll have to insist on it, and I’ll be very cross with you if you don’t.”
Despite all of the people moving around them on the boardwalk, Halstead brought his lips to hers in the tenderest kiss he had ever known. And for those splendid few moments, all of the gasps and looks of disapproval they drew and all of the Brunets and Zimmermans of the world did not matter.
Abby broke off the kiss first and nuzzled her head into his chest just as she had in the jail, only this time, there was no fear in her, only warmth.
Halstead rested his head on top of hers and held her to him. He stroked her cheek with his thumb and although she had not cried back in the jail, she was crying now.
He had never made a woman cry before. At least not in that way.
“I hope that’s a tear of joy,” he whispered.
“More than joy,” she said into his coat. “So much more.”
She was still crying and smiling when she looked up at him again. “Let’s get back to the hotel, Deputy Halstead. I want to hear some war stories.”
She kept her arm wrapped around his middle as they resumed their walk to the hotel.
He had no intention of denying her request.
Chapter 19
Zimmerman could feel Brunet and his men were anxious to get going as he held them at bay on the outskirts of Battle Brook. Zimmerman wanted to get to work, too, but this only worked if it was bloodless and it would only be bloodless if they did everything exactly right.
They were downwind from the slumbering town and he listened for any sounds that might signal danger. A barking dog or a restless horse. Loud voices of drunks stumbling home after a long night of drinking. Anything that might signal their approach before he was ready.
But all he heard was the wind in his ears and the voice in his heart telling him the time was right to strike. Not just right. Perfect.
It was a cold, moonless night in Battle Brook. The townsfolk were asleep in the warm beds beneath piles of blankets. Even the few saloons that were still open were quiet. The piano players had gone home, and the fallen women were offering comfort to their customers on a cold night.
Ed Zimmerman knew there was nothing standing between him and glory except a half-mile ride through a sleeping frontier town. The dream that had evaded him for so long was finally at hand.
He was too caught up in his moment of glory to realize Brunet had moved his horse next to his. “We’re freezing our nuts off up here, Ed. We gonna do this or not?”
